


Wash Away The Thoughts

by Ghost (PoisonedDeath)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonedDeath/pseuds/Ghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fernando drives around London, wanting to think. (But, obviously, he doesn't really want to)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wash Away The Thoughts

Fernando found himself pointlessly driving around London one night. He wanted to go home, he did, but he couldn’t. His mindset was all wrong; he’d only cause arguments. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he pulled up at the traffic lights, willing them to change colour. He couldn’t stand the thought of being still for more than a minute. The rain drummed down, hitting the windows and Fernando sighed, letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, as the red light went out and the green one was lit.

He had no idea where he was going, none at all, but he knew he needed this break. He still, after 2 years of living in London, did not know his way around. Sure, he knew how to get to the important places, like training, the stadium, his house, and, occasionally, if Olalla was sick, the shops, but that was about it. It was at times like this that he wished he could be a little more adventurous like Juan, who seemed to know where everything was at all times. It was infuriating. Fernando gripped the steering wheel tightly at the thought of the other Spaniard’s name. He didn’t want to think of him right now, but the more he tried to forget, the more he thought.

He thought of Juan, standing in front of him with a soft smile playing at his lips, teasing him about his new haircut. He thought of Juan, the one who always seems so sensible, trying to annoy David by touching his hair. He thought of Juan, when types out his blog posts, telling people things about football, about places he’d visited, about things that were interesting. Fernando, for the life of him, couldn’t understand why people would want to read such a thing, but he knew it made Juan happy. Juan was so friendly and sensible. Fernando, even back when he had long hair dyed that utterly ridiculous shade of blonde, was shy. Juan was shy too, but it was a different type of shyness. And, at least Juan could talk to certain teammates without wanting to pin them up against the nearest wall and fuck them into the next century. Of course, it was Fernando that was cursed with such feelings. 

Fernando began to drive in the general direction of home. He felt worse than he did before he left, and wanted nothing more than to sleep. He turned the radio on to pull him from his thoughts, not wanting to hear the rain anymore. He focussed fully on the road, mapping out his route back home in his head. When he reached home, he climbed out of his car and the rain poured down onto him, mixing with the salty liquid that was already on his cheeks. He hadn’t realised that he’d been crying.


End file.
